Pick a Date - Any Date

Last night was trick-or-treat here in Suburbia.  Two hours of sitting with my front door open and the glass out of my screen door to pass out treats to a total of seven trick-or-treaters.  Seven.  The funny thing is that's not even a record for the fewest trick-or-treaters to come to our house.  That record stands at one.  But it was nice to pass out candy to the kids who did come to our door.  Hubby was not in a very Halloween type mood.  He was quite disappointed that trick-or-treat was not on Halloween.  To be honest, I don't get it either.  Why not have trick-or-treat on Halloween?  Hubby says that without trick-or-treat, Halloween is just another day.  He's kind of right.  Today we spent five hours total in the car to drive half way across the state of Ohio to meet my parents for lunch.  (They like to do this.  I'll expain in a later post.)  They had Halloween gifts for us and that made it seem like Halloween but that was it.  Nobody at the restaurant was dressed up.  No wishes of Happy Halloween as we left.  Nothing on the radio to lead you to believe it was a special day.  Without all of the scary stuff on television to watch, it just seemed like any other day.  Rather disappointing I must admit.  I don't know what I was expecting but I agree with Hubby.  Trick-or-treating on Halloween is just the way it should be.  A friend of mine lives in Salem, Massachusetts on the road to Gallows Hill.  Maybe next year we'll go visit her for Halloween.  Somehow I think Salem would be a little more full of the Halloween spirit.  Happy Candy Day Everyone!

Come On. You Know You Wanna. All the Cool Kids are Doin' It.

Happy Blogiversary to me!  I can't believe I've been blogging every day for more than an entire month.  Even more unbelievably, I have been able to uphold a level of non-coma-inducing topics and have not lost every "peep" I have gained.  I appreciate all of my readers and encourage you to share with your social networking friends the blogs that you find particularly amusing.  I would love to expand my audience, the next step in my pursuit of world domination - I mean, spreading humor and cheer.  I love the feedback that I get and would like to create a more interactive environment by addressing some issues supplied by my "peeps".  Blogging has been a great way for me to do some real soul searching and almost has a therapeutic quality about it.  (I say almost because if I admit it is truly therapeutic I would feel obligated to pay you each as I pay my real life therapist.)  I have realized some things about myself over the last month that I was not even aware of.  I have learned by the labels with which I categorize each post that I am often filled with "frustration" and there is a bunch of "crap I don't understand".  Remembering that every post is public has been a challenge but for every subject I tackle, I become more secure in who I am and what I stand for - a great way to progress in the world of self-improvement.  So, if you've ever had the inkling, I encourage you to jump on the band wagon and become a blogonista too.  I'd love to hear what you have to share.

Brother Can You Spare a Dime?

Yesterday, my mailbox was full.  Full of crap.  All I got were solicitations for donations to charity.  Now I guess this wouldn't make me quite so angry if they weren't charities I have already donated to!  Every year for lent as a family project, we save our change and donate it to a charity (last year's winner was Reading is Fundamental).  We also participate in other charities throughout the year (like Operation Christmas Child at Christmas time).  The problem is that once you donate to these organizations, they aren't happy with your one donation.  It seems like every week they send you something asking for more money.  If I had more money to give you, I would have included it in the check I sent you last week.  It makes me not want to give to them in the first place.  The donation I just made merely covers the cost of all the mailings they will send me in the future.  What is the point of me giving them my donation?  I might as well donate it directly to the postal service.  They are the ones that end up with the money anyway.  Or send the request in an e-mail (this is what the WSPA does).  It's cheaper, more eco-friendly and easier to ignore if I so choose.  And I wonder at what point a charity decides to bump you off their harassment list.  We donated to Heifer International (a GREAT organization) so many years ago that I can't remember when it was but we still get their solicitations in the mail.  I could call and ask to be removed from their mailing list I guess, but the point is I shouldn't have to.  Keep my name, but try only asking for more money like a year later.  News flash - You're more likely to get donation once a year than once a month at least from me.  Not all charities are like this.  There are some out there who graciously accept your donation and put your money to actual use and not more mailings (Donkeys of the Holy Land being one).  I guess I will just have to focus my giving locally and purchase items with my money.  I can then physically take these items to the charities.  We did that one year for the local animal shelter and they were so surprised with the gifts they were speechless.  I wish my donations could render some of these other charities speechless - or better yet stampless.

Knock-Knock! Who's There?

Since I am in a Halloweeny kind of mood, I'd just like to say one thing.  I know some of you will not understand this but - I hate Halloween.  I like the pumpkins and the cute little trick-or-treaters but the rest I could do without.  I'm just not into the whole fear factor that many people associate with Halloween today.  I don't even like going to stores in the month of October because of some of the gory decorations.  Heck, I was wary of taking my daughter out to trick-or-treat when she was little.  But I'm not a total party pooper, I do buy candy and pass it out to the trick-or-treaters (all five that actually come to my house).  But let me state this right off the bat, if you are 10 years old or older and you want to come to my door and you're not wearing a costume, just forget it.  It really annoys me to no end when I have to pause The Nightmare Before Christmas and answer the door just to find a bunch of teens in sweatclothes with face paint on.  If you're not going to make the effort, why should I.  I'm thinking about buying something like toothbrushes or healthy snacks to give to these young hoodlums.  Maybe then next year they won't come back.  Don't get me wrong.  If you are in a costume, you get a treat.  Doesn't matter how old you are.  Heck, I give treats to the parents with the guts to dress up and take their children around the neighborhood.  Grown-ups like candy too.  My motto is if you're going to dress up and go door to door in the most likely cold Suburbia weather, you deserve something.  Heck, I even give treats to people at my door when its not Halloween.  Ask the Mormons.  They always leave with caffeine free soda and snacks.  I wonder if the Mormons decided to knock on your door at Halloween how would you know if they were real Mormons or just trick-or-treaters dressed up as Mormons?  Hmmmm . . .

The Adventures of Gimpy Me

I am finally off of my crutches.  After a week of assisted walking and lots of resting, I am finally doing better.  My torn calf muscle is healing and I can start getting my life back to normal.  There is one thing that my eyes were opened to while I was hobbling along this past week - How rude people are to the disabled.  While there have been a few kind souls who have held a door open, there are just as many if not more ignorant people with either have no hearts or no awareness of the world around them.  The worst experience I had was the day that we traveled to see my daughter in a band/colorguard competition.  Luckily, after being allowed to park in the handicapped parking area and being led through the handicapped entrance (at the top of the stadium), we were able to snag a few seats in the handicapped companion seating area saving me from falling down the bleacher stairs in pursuit of a place to rest my rear.  However, I was amazed at the number of non-disabled people occupying seats clearly marked for the handicapped.  There was even a lady standing in the wheelchair spot next to my hubby while a lady IN a wheelchair waited behind her for the spot.  She didn't move giving the poor lady in the wheelchair a nice view of her butt instead of the show.  We only stayed for three performances and upon our leaving, the lady who had been standing next to hubby promptly took our handicapped seats.  Later when we stopped on the way home for dinner, I was stunned that upon leaving the restaurant that a group of twenty-somethings standing on the sidewalk outside did not have the courtesy to move when I approached.  I was forced to crutch my way down off the sidewalk onto the road and make my way around them.  Are you kidding?  I have a nephew who is permanently disabled and in a wheelchair or on crutches.  He is not afraid to nudge someone with his crutch and ask them to move because he is disabled.  At first I found this rather rude, but after seeing firsthand how poorly I'm sure he is treated, I say kudos to you nephew!  Wish I had the guts to nudge them with my crutch and ask them to move.  Then again, nudge wouldn't have been the term for what I wanted to do :)

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Tornados are scary.  I don't care what anyone else thinks, they are scary.  I think its one of those things like hearing a bone break or being in a car wreck, you don't understand just how terrible it is until you've been through it.  Having lived in Tornado Alley, I have seen my fair share of tornados.  So every time there is the threat of tornadic storms, I batten down the hatches and head to the basement.  Which is exactly what I did today.  The line of storms with tornado warnings was racing eastward so I took all three birds and some necessary items and camped out in the basement.  The TV coverage was great.  Since there were tornado warnings, they stayed on the air constantly for about three hours.  I appreciate this and their ability to predict possible tornados but I have to say that the weather warning system is so good that its going to end up hurting itself.  They issue warnings for everything.  They even issue warnings for doppler indicated tornados.  Now, I for one will always abide by the warnings.  Its the public in general that I fear for.  They issue the warnings so often and then nothing happens that I fear it will cause a "cry wolf" effect.  People will just get immune to the warnings and not think anything of them.  I already know people like this.  They scare me.  Granted from the time I was little if the wind picked up, I was dragging the patio furniture into the house.  But I feel its better to be safe than sorry.  The fear is in my blood.  Hmmmm . . . Maybe I was Judy Garland in a previous life?

O Bother, Its Your Birthday

Today is the 40th anniversary of my husband's birth.  I was going to have a nice, witty, sarcastic blog today, but instead I would rather spend the time with him.  Wait, he's on the couch with ESPN on the TV.  Maybe it's best to just leave him be to do what he wants.  He seems happy at the moment.  If I go over there and bother him, he will most likely want to turn the channel to something that won't put me in a coma.  I would feel bad if he did that when he seems so content watching his little sports channel.  But then again, I'm sure he'd love to have me over there snuggling with him on the couch.  He looks quite comfortable by himself though.  If I go over there, he's just going to feel like he has to resituate himself so that I am comfortable too and why should he have to do that.  It is his birthday.  There's only ten minutes until we have to leave anyway so I guess I'll just finish up this blog posting and . . . well, now I'm done.  But if I stop typing he'll wonder why I'm not coming over and I'll feel all bad.  Then he'll feel all bad and I don't want him to feel all bad on his birthday.  So I guess I'll just keep typing so that he hears the noise and . . . wait . . . he's coming over here.  Oh, its time to go.  Problem solved.  Happy Birthday Hubby!